


The Line Between Love and Hate

by DellaMoore



Series: Fandom High [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Light Angst, M/M, Mild Smut, Past Abuse, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-08
Updated: 2017-02-05
Packaged: 2018-04-25 11:48:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4959505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DellaMoore/pseuds/DellaMoore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter have always hated each other. But when it comes down to it there is a very fine line between hate and love. What will it take for the two of them to cross that line?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Enclosed Space

“Damned bloody, Potter.” Draco hissed under his breath as he slunk down the dark hallway. It was past curfew, but no one actually cared about that here, especially not when your father was funding half the school. He passed another couple of students sneaking back in from what appeared to be a party as he made his way to the basement.

Harry Potter, golden boy of the school, quidittch captain and seeker, champion in wizarding tournaments galore, and bane of Draco’s existence was leaning against the broom closet down the hall. He looked awake and as perfect as ever despite it being the middle of the night and it made Draco grumpy.

“Oi, Potter, the bloody hell you doin’ sending out owls at this time of night?” He demanded waving the letter in front of his face.

Potter looked at him with a confused expression and raised a letter of his own. “What’re you talking about? YOU sent ME a letter saying to meet you down here.”  


That stopped Draco in his tracks. He hadn’t sent Potter any damn letter. “Then that means – ” Before he could finish the thought they were both hit with a spell that sent them flying through the previously closed door into a dark closet, one much smaller than the broom closet that was supposed to be there. He could feel the heat and the prickling closeness of Potter beside him, arm nearly brushing arm.  


Laughing outside told them it was just another Weasley practical joke, because Draco wasn’t having a lousy enough night on his own. “Sodding weasels!” He shouted, pulling and pushing at the door in a vain attempt to open it.  


“Fred, George, please open the door now.” Potter hissed quietly, not moving to even try and help Draco with the door.  


“Sorry Harry.” One of them called.  


“But it’s for your own good.” The other answered.  


“Then leave him in here and let me out.” Draco snapped.  


“No can do, Blondie.” One of the weasels laughed. Oh, he’d pay for that if Draco ever got his way out of this damn closet.  


“Neither of you are leaving that closet until you two kiss and make up.”  


“Or maybe just kiss. A good snog ought to help both of you.” With that and a faded laugh, the twins were gone, leaving Draco alone in a very enclosed space with Harry Bloody Potter.  


After a few moments of silence, he felt Potter slid down the wall and sit down. Well, if he wasn’t going to help then Draco would just have to do it himself. He pulled his wand from the inside of his robes and methodically attempted every unlocking, unbinding, even exploding spell he knew. After what felt like hours, but was more likely just one he finally gave up on his own knowledge.  


“Aren’t you even going to do anything, Potter?” Draco snapped, having realized Potter was still seated. He faintly heard Potter muttering under his breath, but when he kept going on and on Draco realized that it wasn’t a spell. “Potter?”  


Receiving no answer Draco lit up his wand. Harry Potter, glorious fighting champion, had squeezed himself into the very corner of the small room with his knees pulled up to his chest and his face hidden. He slowly rocked back and forth mumbling unintelligible things under his breath. Draco was at a loss.  


“What’s the matter with you?”  


“Hello? Are you even still with me here?”  


“Potter?”  


“POTTER!” He screamed as loud as he could. The boy flinched back at the yell and tried to make himself smaller, but showed no signs of responding.  


“Seriously, Potter, you’re acting mad. What is wrong with you? We need to get out of this bloody cupboard.”  


At the last word, he began moving a little fasting and speaking a bit louder. Draco could make out the words “please” and “sorry” repeated over and over again. It reminded Draco of his Aunt Bellatrix when she had one of her episodes of madness where she’d repeat the same things over and over while she laughed manically. He’d never really liked his Aunt Bellatrix. But she’d always been excessively loud which while unsettling was more so annoying than anything else. Whatever Potter was talking about, it was expressly quiet, as if he were trying not to be loud and it was quite creepy as well as unsettling.  


Perhaps he’d been cursed? But he was friends with the weasels, they wouldn’t curse him. Maybe the curse was meant for him and it somehow hit Potter instead? It still seemed unlikely. The weasels weren’t much for curses, they seemed to aim more for amusement than pain. And besides it would be stupid to curse someone when your friend could easily get caught in the crossfire. But then what was the matter with him?  


Draco knelt down in front of Potter, which considering the size of the room left the two quite close. He reached out a hand, barely touching the other boy before he violently jerked away, hitting the wall in the process, but he didn’t seem to notice any pain. He caught a glimpse of tear-filled eyes and a bloodstained lip before he hid his face away again.  


“Potter?” He asked gently, having noticed the reaction to loud noises and quick movements. He slowly reached forward, just brushing his fingers along the warm skin of his arm. Potter tensed and trembled slightly, but didn’t jerk away again. It was some kind of progress at least. Without realizing it, he’d begun to stroke Harry’s arm….wait no Potter’s arm. He could feel the other starting to relax with how close they were.  


“Potter?” He still got no answer, but Potter was leaning into the touch and he was slowing down his hurried speech.  


“Sorry…really sorry…please let me out…said I’m sorry…please don’t…don’t lock the door…please…please…”  


Time to try a different approach then, “Harry? Are you alright?”  


His whole body shook and he raised his face enough to look at Draco. His eyes were flooded with tears, but none had escaped his eyes yet. His face was flushed and he’d bitten into his lip until it was bleeding, steadily dripping down his chin. “What?” He whispered, his voice slightly hoarse from his muttering over the past hour or so. His eyes appeared glazed and he didn’t seem to recognize Draco.  


“Are you okay, Harry?” He asked in a soft gentle voice, almost afraid of startling him back into that full blown panic attack he seemed to have been having a moment ago.  


He shook his head. “Don’t like it. I’m sorry.”  


“It’s okay. What don’t you like? The dark? I have a light see.” He said waving the light in front of his watery green eyes, but he just shook his head. “Is it me?” Another shake. Of course it wasn’t Draco’s presence. He’d never sent Harry… no Potter, he’d never sent Potter into a panic attack before now. “Is it the room?”  


A single tear slipped out of his eye, but he swiped it away almost before Draco even noticed it. That was it. The small enclosed space. Harry was claustrophobic. That had to be it. But Draco had never seen anyone have a reaction like this. Normally people just got nervous or paranoid, not gone catatonic. “I’m sorry.” Harry whispered again, looking to Draco as if for some kind of forgiveness.  


“What are you sorry for?”  


Harry just shook his head and wrapped his arms tighter around himself. That’s when Draco noticed the blood on his hands, he was digging his nails into his skin and little drops escaped each time Harry shifted.  


“Harry?” Draco said, lightly touching his hands. “Harry, you need to let go of your arms. Harry, please.” When that did nothing, he tried again. “Drop them now.” It was still a slight whisper, barely even audible but it worked. He dropped his hands like they’d been burned and he muttered rapid apologies.  


“It’s okay, it’s okay.” He soothed. Draco looked at the red half-moons, four on each arm. He pulled off his loosened tie and began dabbing at the cuts. That’s when he noticed the tiny little scars, probably hundreds of them on his upper arms from this exact thing. How often did this happen? Why hadn’t anyone helped him? Did the red heads and that mud-blood really just let Harry do this to himself all the time? For some reason it pissed him off. Harry sensed his anger, and apparently thinking it was directed at him, he bowed his head and tried to pull away. Unfortunately there was nowhere to pull away to. The room was just that tiny.  


“I’m sorry Harry. It’s okay. I’m not mad at you.”  


Harry looked up sharply. “Promise?”  


“Yes I promise. Can you tell me something?” He asked as he moved onto the set of cuts on his other arm. Harry nodded. “What?”  


“Why don’t you like this room? What’s the matter with it?” Apart from being a joke that really wasn’t funny. He was so going to kill those two twats.  


“I lived in a cupboard.” He whispered. “Sometimes I still do, if I make them angry.”  


“Who? Those muggles you live with?” That was why he always looked so small after summer break? Did those people keep him locked up like a dog?  


Harry nodded.  


“Do they at least feed you?”  


He nodded again.  


“Do they feed you enough?”  


Harry shrugged. “It’s only for a couple months.”  


“It’s not okay. You should talk to the Headmaster.”  


“There’s nothing Dumbledore can do. They’re my guardians by law.” He was staring at his knees, finally coming out of the panic attack and talking normally again. He still didn’t seem to realize who he was talking to though.  


“What about the Weasley brood, can’t you stay with them?”  


“Molly and Arthur have seven of their own children. I can’t make them take on anymore. It wouldn’t be fair, even if I supported myself.”  


“Don’t you have anyone else?”  


Harry shook his head. “My parents are dead and my godfather is in prison for killing Peter Pettigrew, the man who murdered them.”  


“Pettigrew?” Why did that name sound so familiar?  


Harry nodded, reaching up to wipe off some blood from his chin. Draco reached over, handing in the tie he’d already used on his cuts.  


“Do your friends let you do that a lot?” Draco asked gesturing to the cuts along his arms.  


Harry snapped his gaze up, angry green meeting startled grey. “They didn’t know.” He snapped. “Though I’m sure they will now.”  


“They didn’t know?!” Harry Potter had kept secrets from his friends? It was a night of revelations for Draco.  


“I’m sure you’ll have a blast telling them and everyone else all about it. ‘Harry Potter gets pushed around by muggles’ ‘Harry Potter lives in a cupboard’ and even better ‘Harry Potter cries to Draco Malfoy about his problems.’ It’s what you’ve always wanted isn’t it? To have some good dirt on me? To make my life here at school miserable. Well too bad, it can’t get much worse.”  


“Harry…”  


“So I’m Harry now, huh? Just stop pretending you care, Malfoy. I’m too tired for it. I don’t want to fight with you tonight.”  


“I’m not trying to fight you. I just want to help.”  


“Then if you truly want to help then just forget this night ever happened.”  


“Deal.” It shouldn’t have been so easy to agree to something like that with Harry Potter, his arch nemesis for the past five years or so, but somehow it was.  


The door creaked open and tossed them into the hallway before slamming shut. With a loud cracking noise, the door to the cupboard was gone and replaced by the door of the broom closet. Draco pulled it open, revealing rows of school issue flying brooms lined up against the wall. The cupboard was gone.  


Draco turned around to see Harry leaning against the wall, looking bloody and tired, not nearly as perfect as he’d been just two hours before, but somehow he still managed to look attractive, in need of a shower but still attractive. Draco shook his head and hurried away before Harry could yell at him anymore.  


It wasn’t until he reached his private suite in the Slytherin building and dropped onto his four poster bed that he realized Harry still had his tie.


	2. A Seeker's Game

It had been three days since the twins’ joke and Harry was just now beginning to breathe easier. Malfoy still hadn’t blabbed about Harry’s secrets, for whatever the reason. It had been the middle of the night before Harry had returned to the dorms. The twins had been waiting up for him, but he simply fixed them with a burning glare and stalked up to his room. He hadn’t talked to them since, despite Ron and Hermione’s attempts to convince him to otherwise. They didn’t understand.

After fifteen minutes of awkward silence between his friends, Harry quickly excused himself from the study session. He knew they wanted answers, but he wasn’t ready to give them just yet. He wasn’t ready to let them in, to see the judgment on their faces when they found out about the secrets he’d been keeping. So instead he made his way to the quidditch pitch. It was late, so the large locker room was blissfully empty. Harry changed into a set of workout clothes before putting himself through his paces, running drill after drill and play after play. It was as he pulled himself out of yet another plummet that he noticed he was being watched.

Malfoy stood, broom in hand, leaning against the railing. His silver eyes danced as they locked with Harry’s, a slight smirk on his face. He held out a snitch, eyebrow raised in question. Harry didn’t even realize he was nodding until the snitch flew off into the air. His mind was currently thinking of the green silk tie he’d slept with wrapped around his hand the past few nights. He wondered if Malfoy would ask for it back as he watched the man in question mount his broom. And they were both flying, flitting about the pitch and lost in their own world of wind and adrenaline.

It started to rain as they each sped for the snitch in a sudden game of chicken. Harry’s fingers closed over the cold metal only moments before Malfoy’s. Shoulders bumped as they flew past one another, heading towards the ground. They burst into the locker room, water dripping off them both. Harry couldn’t help but notice the way Malfoy’s hair slicked back in a mock recreation of the way he’d worn it years before and the way his rain soaked shirt clung to the lean body beneath. As loath as he was to admit it, Draco Malfoy was attractive, even more so drenched in rain. He tried, and failed, to push away the memory of the rich spicy scent that clung to the tie that still lay in Harry’s bed, tucked under the pillow where Ron wouldn’t find it.

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?” Harry found himself asking quietly.

“Did you want me too?” Malfoy asked, head tilted to the side questioningly. The gesture reminded Harry of a puppy.

“Of course not.”

Malfoy sighed, “I told you I wouldn’t. Besides I’m not a total arse.”

Harry snorted at that. “Could’ve fooled me.”

“Like that’s hard to do, Potter.”

And somehow Harry found himself laughing alongside Draco sodding Malfoy, something he’d never thought would happen. Harry made himself turn away as Malfoy peeled the shirt from his body, shaking the water from his hair and once again reminding Harry of a dog. He listened as Malfoy chattered on about the errors in Harry’s technique. He cast a drying spell on himself and wiped his glasses on the now dry shirt. He tried to remember if he’d ever heard Malfoy talk this much.

Hearing a sudden gasp, he stilled, instantly realizing his mistake. He cursed his own stupidity. Not thinking he’d pulled off his shirt, back still to Malfoy. He’d always been so careful about changing in the locker rooms. Always changing before the team arrived or using cleaning charms rather than showers until he could get back to his room. And now he’d mucked it all up.

Harry stiffened further at the feeling of soft fingers brushing his skin. The first touches were hesitant, barely there brushes of skin, as if he were testing the waters. Then a soft breath dusted across Harry’s neck, nearly making him shiver. Had Malfoy been holding his breath? Nervous about touching Harry? When he wasn’t pushed away Malfoy seemed to grow bolder, his fingers trailing down to trace a couple of the long thin scars marring Harry’s back.

“These are from a switch.” Malfoy murmured, his voice soft like he were trying not to startle a frightened animal.

Harry nodded, surprised. “How’d you know that?”

“I’ve got a few myself. The ones Mother wasn’t there to heal. My father preferred magic though.” Malfoy spoke casually, as if it weren’t a big deal, as if it were a common occurrence. A subtle anger stirred in Harry’s belly. Malfoy shouldn’t expect that. He shouldn’t be hurt by anyone, especially those who claimed to care for him.

“What about these?” He asked, tracing one of the wider, more raised of the scars.

“Belt buckle.” Harry replied, remembering the red raged face of Uncle Vernan as he’d raised the belt. Harry shuddered at the memory. Malfoy’s warm forehead touched his shoulder, grounding him to the present.

“And this one?” Draco, no Malfoy, Malfoy’s thumb prodded the thick knot of scar tissue on Harry’s left side.

“Cane. It broke two ribs. They take forever to heal without magic.” Harry didn’t know why he was telling these things to Malfoy. He hadn’t even told his best friends about it.

Malfoy hummed, his hands tracing each and every scar that laced Harry’s back, trailing down to brush over the tiny cuts along his arms before settling on the thin lines along his right hip. “But these look more like knives.” He muttered knowingly. It wasn’t a question

“Razor blade, actually.” Harry mumbled.

Then suddenly those long slim arms were wrapped tight around his waist and that pointy nose was buried in the crook of his neck. “Oh, Harry…” The words were whispered so softly Harry almost missed them, but before he could ask, another voice was heard calling his name.

“Harry?” Ron’s call was just outside. Draco jumped away and Harry hurried to pull his shirt on as Ron pushed his way into the room. He glanced around but Malfoy was already hidden in the showers.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you. It’s almost curfew and McGonagall is checking beds tonight after Fred and George’s stunt yesterday.”

Harry growled in irritation.

“They really are sorry, you know. They didn’t know you were claustrophobic. And we won’t bug you for details anymore. I know Malfoy was probably just a dick anyway.”

Harry sighed, pushing back the images Ron’s careless words tried to conjure up. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll make them do my transfiguration homework or something and we’ll be even.”

They walked in silence for a while as they made their way back to the Gryffindor dorms. “You’ve got a loyal one there.” Ron commented, gesturing behind them. Harry looked back to see Malfoy’s snitch hovering just behind him. He snatched it from the air, looking it over when he got back to his own room. Tucked inside was a small scrap of parchment, a single line written upon it in a thin loopy scrawl Harry instantly recognized.

One AM, Astronomy Tower.

 

***

 

Harry made his way up the stairs, only slightly nervous. A week ago Harry would’ve thought it a trick to get him in trouble, but now he didn’t think so, especially after Draco’s behavior earlier. Harry shook his head, Malfoy not Draco.

Indeed he found Malfoy at the top of the tower, leaning against the railing and staring up at the sky. He didn’t seem to notice Harry’s presence at first. With his pale skin and his windblown hair glowing almost silver in the moonlight, Draco Malfoy looked ethereal. It took Harry’s breath away for a moment.

“Draco?” He asked, unable to resist the urge to let the word roll of his tongue.

Malfoy started at the sound, whirling around wide eyed until he recognized Harry. He thought he saw something like relief in those silver eyes before the classic Malfoy mask fell into place.

“Here.” He trust a small stack of parchment into Harry’s hands.

“What’s this?”

“The false identity and whereabouts of the man you know as Peter Pettigrew. He faked his death. Turn that over to the ministry and your godfather will be released within the week.”

“Draco, I…”

“Don’t mention it.” He shrugged.

“But…”

“Seriously, don’t mention it. Tell them whatever you want. Say you found it under a rock. Say Weasley shit it out, for all I care, but DO NOT mention my name.” He turned to leave.

“Wait.” The boy froze, hand reaching for the door handle. “Why’re you doing this?”

Draco, and he was Draco now Harry couldn’t deny that, looked back over his shoulder, a sad smile playing across his features. “Because it’s about time I start making amends for the things that I’ve done.”


	3. The New Normal

Draco shifted again on his bed. He’d been awake half the night it seemed, ever since he’d woken from that damned dream. He knew touching Harry was a mistake as soon as skin met skin. He’d half expected the Boy who Lived to hex him or even punch him like a muggle, but instead he’d leaned into the touch, letting Draco learn his body. And then Weasley had had to come along and interrupt, the sodding bastard.

But now Draco was reaping the consequences, dreaming about Harry. And damn it, he couldn’t force his mind back into thinking of him as Potter. Now he was Harry, vulnerable and open and damn bloody gorgeous shirtless. Even his stupid glasses had been in his fantasy, lying slightly askew on his flushed and gasping face as his hands tightened in Draco’s hair, rocking his cock deeper down Draco’s throat. He groaned at the thought and rolled over again.

“If you’re not gonna sleep than at least shut the fuck up so I can.” Blaise snapped from across the room, where he was sprawled on Draco’s couch.

“It’s my damn room.”

“Don’t care, fuck off.”

Grumbling loudly, Draco pulled on a t-shirt over his sleep pants before trudging out of the room. He wondered down to the dungeons, as the tunnels connecting the buildings were commonly dubbed, cursing Harry and Blaise with each step. Finding his way to an old storage closet, Draco rummaged around until he found the bottle of firewhiskey and a pack of cigarettes he’d hidden there specifically for this purpose.

He had a light buzz and a third cigarette lit by the time he reached the familiar tapestry. He paced back and forth repeating his wish for a place to drown his sorrows. Finally, a large wooden door appeared. It led him into an elegant suite. A posh sitting room was lit by a blazing fire and heavy oak doors led into the bathroom and what he assumed was probably a bedroom. Inside the bathroom he found a large claw foot tub, the room lit by sweet scented candles.

With a flick of his wand he filled the tub with steaming hot water. Shucking his clothes he sank gratefully into the water, groaning softly as his stiff muscles relaxed.

It was nearly an hour later when a noise jerked him awake. Drying off and wrapping a towel around his waist he slipped out of the bathroom. The sitting room was the same as he’d left it but now the bedroom door was cracked open. Had someone gotten in? That had to be impossible. No one should be able to get into the room when someone else was using it. Unless they had the same wish? Did that happen? Wand in hand, he headed forward to check it out.

Draco stopped short at the sight before him. A nearly naked Harry Potter lay sprawled across a four poster bed, decorated in Slytherin colors. And damn if he didn’t look like a banquet laid out just for him. Long expanses of tanned skin, covered only by thin black boxer shorts, contrasted against the deep green duvet. His black hair was splayed across a silver silk pillow. He didn’t know how long he stood there just staring at the sight before him, wand hanging forgotten by his side and towel hanging low on his hips, before Potter’s vibrant eyes opened and locked with his own. They surveyed each other silently before Potter burst into laughter

“That explains the color scheme.” He shushed his giggles before raising a half-empty bottle of whiskey. “Drink?”

It took Draco longer than it should have for him to realize that Harry was just as drunk as he was. With a shrug he sat next to Potter, spelling his towel into a pair of shorts. No sooner had he taken the bottle than Harry’s head was resting on his shoulder. He’d forgotten that Harry was a touchy drunk, always touching and cuddling up to people. He turned his head to say something about Malfoy’s not cuddling, but got a face full of wild black hair. Harry’s rich scent filled his senses. He smelled of ink and fresh parchment with the spice of whiskey. Draco found himself bringing his face into Harry’s hair and breathing him in.

“Why’re you drowning your sorrows?” Draco asked.

“Nightmares.” His answer was simple, but his whole body shook and Draco found himself slipping an arm around the other man. And somehow Draco found himself doing something he couldn’t remember ever doing before: trying to comfort someone else. He started talking, rambling on about nonsense, telling unimportant anecdotes. Within a few minutes he had Harry laughing, his whole body shaking from the other boy's laughter.

"Just imagine walking up to Lucius dripping wet and wearing nothing but silk boxers."

"Merlin, that's terrifying." Harry managed between giggles.

"Just picture it! His hair plastered to his face and his flabby stomach hanging there."

"Eww, no. I don't want the image in my head."

"He's going to show up in your room now."

"No!"

"Yes, I'll make it happen."

"No, no, no."

"With his pointy man nipples."

"No, stop."

"And almost naked."

His laughter was hysterical. "Draco, stop it."

"It will happen, it will, it will, it will."

And suddenly, lips were on his, effectively shutting him up. But then as quickly as it had happened, it was over. He simply sat there staring at Harry, whose face was a rosy pink from the flush of alcohol but also a slight blush.

"If I knew that's all it took to shut you up, I'd have done it ages ago." He laughed at Draco's look of utter shock. His mind was currently running overdrive. Did that just happen? He’d blame the alcohol, but his hand flashed out and wrapped around Harry’s neck, pulling him back in for another kiss. Their lips clashed messily, tongues tangling together. He sighed into the kiss as Harry’s arms wrapped around him, pulling them flush against each other. When they finally broke apart to breathe they fell back onto the pillows. Harry pulled the blanket over them.

“Sleep.” He murmured, pulling Draco down to settle on his chest. They were both asleep within moments.

 

*******

 

Days passed in similar fashion. They both carried on their regular daily activities, but they met up most nights in the room of requirement. Sometimes they’d drink and talk late into the night. Sometimes they studied silently, occasionally discussing school work. And sometimes they’d just settle into bed beside each other and enjoy the warmth of the other person. They hadn’t kissed again since that first drunken night. They hadn’t talked about it either. And Draco was fine with that. He hadn’t figured it out inside his head yet either. Until then it would just have to wait.

He was dozing in a plush arm chair by the fire when Harry burst into the room. He dragged Draco from the chair to hug him tightly. Draco, for his part, simply stood there dumbfounded as the other man embraced him.

“It worked!” Harry was nearly shouting with excitement. “You’re a genius!”

“What are you on about, Potter?”

“The information you gave me. They caught Pettigrew and are going to be releasing Sirius!”

“Oh yeah, that. Good.” Draco straightened his shirt when the other man finally stepped away. He was infinitely uncomfortable with the affectionate praise, but he was glad to see Harry happy. And Harry was obviously thrilled.


	4. A Step Forward

Things were changing at a surprising rate. In just two weeks, Harry had become friends with Draco Malfoy, his godfather was being released, and the Dursleys had been notified that he wouldn’t be returning to their care. They’d been almost as thrilled as he was. He’d released Draco from his hug to find the blonde flushed an attractive pink. He wouldn’t meet Harry’s gaze as he attempted to straighten his shirt. His tie was already off and draped over a chair. His shoes were nearby with his robes in a pile on the floor and his shirt had the first few buttons undone. Harry was taken with how attractive the blonde was, he didn’t even realize he was moving forward until they were almost touching. Draco looked up from his shirt, mouth opening in what would likely be a snarky comment, but Harry was kissing him before he could utter a sound.

Harry wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t for Draco to melt into the kiss, arms wrapping around Harry’s neck. One moment they’d been talking and now they were snogging and Harry was lost, but he wasn’t going to stop. He figured Draco would likely come to his senses in a moment and push him away to yell or even hex him, so he was going to enjoy it what it lasted. Harry had known he was attracted to men for a few years now, but he’d never been with one. It had taken a few fumbled attempts at trying to have sex with Ginny before they both realized he wasn’t really interested in her that way. And now he knew why. It had felt nice when he’d kissed Ginny, but it was nothing compared to this. Kissing Draco Malfoy was a thousand times better. There was a desperation to the kiss that had never been there with anyone else. It was as if he was a drug and Harry was just now realizing his addiction.

He felt the couch hit the back of his knees and he fell backwards, dragging Draco down with him onto his lap. The blonde settled there easily, knees straddling Harry’s thighs. Finally, Harry felt his hands sink into feather soft hair. He fisted the white-blonde locks and yanked, pulling the other boy’s head back. Draco gasped, letting out a moan as Harry’s lips attacked his neck. His hands were unbuttoning the blonde’s shirt before he was even aware of it. His hands slipping over warm skin, pausing to brush over hardened nipples.

“Fuck, Potter.” Draco gasped, grinding down and their erections rubbed together drawing a rough groan from Harry’s throat. His fingers clutched at sharp hip bones as Draco moved against him, lips meeting in a rough kiss. Hands pulled at his shirt, yanking it over Harry’s head before moving to pull at his belt. Harry arched to help, fingers dipping into Draco’s pants.

“H…Harry.” Draco panted, hips moving faster.

“I’m close.” Harry murmured, fingers tightening in blonde hair as he sucked a mark onto Draco’s neck.

“Me too…me too.”

Pleasure danced through his body as he came, sighing the other’s name into a soft kiss. Draco moved against him, chasing his own release. They fell together in silence, slowly catching their breath with Draco’s head resting on his shoulder. Harry stroked his hand over the soft blonde hair.

“That was…uh…unexpected.” Harry said. He muttered a cleaning spell over the both of them.

Draco nodded against him, not looking up.

“Draco?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you alright?”

“I just…it’s only…well…” Draco pulled back and stood up. With his back to Harry he ran his fingers through his hair.

“Draco?” He watched as the blonde hurriedly redressed himself, fingers hurrying over the buttons. He swept up his shoes and robes and headed towards the door. “Wait, where are you going?”

“I just…I can’t deal with this right now.”

“What do you mean, you can’t deal with this? You stay here and you talk to me.”

“Look, it is one thing to have a drunken kiss, but it’s entirely different to get off with each other when we’re completely sober.” Draco spat over his shoulder, grey eyes hardened to steel.

“So what? You’re just going to pretend it didn’t happen?” Harry found himself shouting back. The sting of rejection hitting deeper than he’d thought it would.

“Yes…no…fuck, I don’t know, Potter.”

“Fine, I don’t even care.”

“You shouldn’t! It’s not like it meant anything.”

“Just run away, Malfoy, that’s what you’re good at.”

“Go to hell, Potter!” He shouted, slamming the door as he left.

He stood looking at the door for a long time after that, a small part of him hoping that Draco would walk back through the door and apologize. Of course he didn’t and it only pissed him off more. He turned and wound up looking up at his reflection in the mirror.

“Expulso.” He growled, wand pointed at the mirror. He watched it shatter, shards spraying across the room, several of them leaving stinging cuts across his bare chest. He felt blood drip down his cheek from a cut, but he couldn’t be bothered to wipe it away. Instead he left the room, taking his time wandering back to his dorm. It wasn’t until he stumbled through the door and found Ron and Hermione looking at him with wide eyed concern that he realized he was still shirtless and bleeding from multiple cuts.

“Harry, what happened?!” Hermione screeched, pushing him into a chair and drawing her wand.

He just shrugged, waving her away when she tried to heal his cuts.

“You get in a fight?” Ron asked, hovering just out of Hermione’s way as she tried to heal Harry despite his attempts to shoo her away.

“Something like that.” He muttered. He hadn’t told them about his budding friendship with Draco Malfoy, in hindsight that was probably a good idea.

“With who?” Hermione shrieked, finally stepping back and crossing her arms in frustration.

He didn’t answer, just ran a hand over his cheek to wipe the blood away.

“It was Malfoy, wasn’t it?” Ron asked, “He’s been all combative ever since Fred and George’s prank.”

Harry merely grunted at that, not liking the reminder of how this had all begun. Hermione tried once more to reach his injuries, but Harry moved away from her. “I’m just going to go to bed.”

“Harry – ”

“Goodnight.”

He didn’t want to listen to them talk at him and he didn’t want to answer questions. He didn’t want to lie to his friends, so he’d let them think what they wanted. He just wanted to forget the whole night. After the elation and pleasure he’d experienced, the rejection was devastating. He settled down at his desk to try and work on homework, glancing down to see his godfather’s letter. Tears threatened and he struggled to blink them away.

He gave up on productivity and settled into bed, waiting for sleep to come. It took a while, but eventually the dark overcame him. Unfortunately dreams of white-blonde hair and stormy grey eyes came along for the ride. When Ron woke him up the following morning he was almost more exhausted than when he’d fallen asleep. He pulled on his quidditch uniform and followed Ron down to breakfast.

“You look like shit, mate.” Ron said around a mouthful of bacon.

“Didn’t sleep well.” He replied, mixing milk into his coffee.

“Worried about the game?”

“Not particularly, just a lot on my mind I guess.”

Ron nodded understandingly, piling a second helping of eggs onto his plate. “I could see that, with your godfather and all.”

Harry simply nodded. It was easier to just let him believe that was it. Hermione settled beside him, a small vial in her hands. “Pepper Up Potion, Harry, take it.”

“Thanks.” He smiled, downing the spicy concoction. Energy flowed out through his body, making him finally feel more awake and alive. He was still tired, but it certainly helped.

“Harry,” Hermione caught his arm as he moved to follow Ron out of the Hall. “I want you to know that I’m here, if you need anything or even just to talk.”

“Thanks, Mione. Maybe we could meet after dinner?” He resigned himself to telling her everything. It would hopefully lighten the weight that seemed to be bearing down on him.

She smiled and patted his arm. “Anything.”

He watched her walk away, hurrying to catch up with her boyfriend. He just hoped he wouldn’t regret it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for how long it took me to update. I'm trying to be better about it.
> 
> All characters belong to the fabulous JK Rowling. I'm simply playing with them a bit.


	5. Ultimatums

Draco watched the game even though his team wasn't playing. Of course he watched the game. He'd always been fascinated by Potter’s flying, but it was only now that he was starting to realize that it wasn't just from his competitive personality. He noticed a scabbed over cut on Potter’s right check and he wondered what could've happened in the twelve hours since he'd last seen him. He hoped he hadn't hurt himself. If he had it would've been Draco’s fault and he didn't want to be the cause of the other’s pain. He was just so confused. He'd never really thought about guys before, at least not while he was sober. And now he was suddenly having an identity crisis.

He’d been raised very traditionally, not to mention he was an only child. He'd be expected to have children to carry on the family name. That couldn't be done with a man. He wasn't attracted to men though, ok maybe he was a little bit but he liked women plenty fine. He’d slept with Astoria multiple times during the months they'd dated and he'd had a crush on Pansy for a while when they were younger.

_Maybe you're bisexual, then._ His mind unhelpfully supplied.

_It doesn't matter though, my father would never accept a boy, especially not Potter._ He argued with himself before he realized that he was literally arguing with his own mind.

He was just so confused. He couldn't be with a man, but he kind of _wanted_ to be. Now that he considered it, he hadn't even _thought_ of another girl since he and Astoria split up six months ago.

He considered talking to his friends, but they wouldn't understand. Blaise would simply laugh at him and make some crude sex joke about Potter. And Pansy would spout some shit about finding his inner peace or something from one of those muggle self-help books she was so fond of.

It was late at night and Draco still hadn't left the library. He knew he should go and get some sleep. He had potions early the next morning and godfather or not, Snape would be pissed if he fell asleep during class. There was just no motivation for him to do so. He was seated in a tiny nook in the back of the library surrounded by books he'd barely touched.

He was just starting to doze off when the book in his hands snapped shut of its own accord. He looked up to find himself face to face with an angry Gryffindor. Hermione Granger, to be specific. She stood over his little table, hands on her hips and hair curling every which way.

“What?” He snapped, lack of sleep making him more irritable than usual.

“You and I need to talk.” She sat down across from him, giving him a curious look as she scanned the titles of the books. Most of them were on pure-blood tradition and old genealogy records of said pure-bloods. She didn't comment on them though and for that he was thankful. He hadn't found anything helpful. Nothing explicitly stated that being gay was a bad thing, but it was implied enough through the heavy emphasis on heirs and marriage.

“About what?”

“Harry.”

Draco sighed. He'd been hoping that Harry would keep their budding friendship a secret, was counting on it actually. He'd never thought to ask him to keep it quiet. Now it seemed it was too late. If Granger knew then the weasel probably did too and he'd likely spread it everywhere. With one last ditch effort, he attempted to play dumb.

“What about?”

“He told me everything, Draco.”

So much for that plan. His reply was bitter. “Of course he did.”

“First, I’d like to thank you for helping him. I didn't know about a lot of the things that were happening with him at home until he told me this evening. I realize I should've seen it before, but I guess I was blind.”

He looked at her in shock. “I didn't do anything.”

“But you did. Harry opened up to you, even if it was accidental and you didn't shun him for that. It helped him to open up to others, like me.”

“Oh.”

“Which brings me to my next point, you hurt him.”

“I – ” He attempted to speak, but she cut him off before he could.

“I really don’t care whether you intended to or not. I’m sure you have your reasons, but that does not excuse that you hurt him.”

“I don’t want him to be hurting.”

“Then you need to figure your feelings out, Draco, one way or another. After that you need to sit down and talk it out with him. As it stands he doesn’t really understand why things ended the way they did the other night. It’s not fair to keep him hanging around.”

“I know, I know. I just don’t know what to do. My father would never accept this. But I do care about Harry.”

“And being with Harry makes you happy?”

“Yeah.”

“Then you need to decide what’s more important to you: what your father wants or what you want.” She gave him a small smile before she stood, waving her wand to send his books back to the shelves. “Sleep on it.”

He watched her walk away, shocked at how easily she’d boiled his dilemma down into a single question. Given, he still had to answer that question, but he was a step closer. He went to bed, mind still lost on the question she’d proposed.

On the one hand, he’d been through a lot because of his father’s poor choices and he thought he deserved to be happy. His father had gotten their entire family into some deep debts a while back and had nearly landed in Azkaban when his shady activities had been revealed.

On the other hand, his father could easily disown him, leaving him with absolutely nothing and nowhere to go. Severus might take him in, but he hated Potter about as much as Lucius did. Although, his mother probably wouldn’t let him do that, right? He could potentially lose everything, his home, his family, his inheritance.

It took him hours to finally fall asleep, but eventually he did, only to be woken up by Pansy a few hours later.

“We’re going to be late if you don’t hurry up.” She drawled from her spot on his bed as he searched for a set of clean robes in his trunk.

“Shut up, I’m tired.”

“Where were you last night? We looked all over.”

“The library.”

“Why?”

“For dinner!” He replied sarcastically. “Why in Merlin’s name do you think I was in the library?”

“Well excuse me. I didn’t realize you were in such a bloody mood. I’ll see you in class.” She stalked off, letting the door slam behind her. He couldn’t bring himself to feel guilty though, he had too much on his mind and hadn’t gotten nearly enough sleep. Not to mention he’d have to see Harry in potions and he was very much considering skipping.

Deciding avoidance was probably the best choice until he’d figured out what to say, Draco locked his door and crawled back into bed. Snape could yell at him later, he just wasn’t in the mood for seeing Harry and his stupidly attractive face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very broody and angsty, sorry. Back to the good stuff in the next chapter. Anyway the characters belong to the lovely JK Rowling. I'm just playing with their story lines.


	6. Decisions

Harry stifled yet another yawn as he made his way out of the classroom. He hadn’t slept well since his fight with Draco and although talking to Hermione had helped, it didn’t solve the problem. She’d merely given him reasons why Draco may have acted like such a prick, but they were only theories and he hadn’t seen Draco since so he couldn’t ask. The prat had even skipped potions earlier leading to Snape in a fouler mood than normal, something Harry wouldn’t wish on his worst enemy.

He was walking with Ron and Hermione on the way to lunch, not really listening to them as they chattered about their plans for the rest of the day. Harry was fully intending to crawl back into bed as soon as classes were over. Shouting drew their attention towards a small courtyard off the side of the building. He recognized Draco’s voice, though they were still too far away to tell what was being said. He hurried forward, Ron and Hermione not far behind.

Outside Draco stood facing Fred and George. His hair shone in the mid-afternoon light and his face flushed red with anger. “. . . absolute idiocy! I mean, who the hell locks people in a closet, especially someone who’s supposed to be their friend! Not to mention it sent him into a bloody panic attack the likes of which I’ve never seen.”

“Look, we already apologized to Harry.” Fred spoke while Draco paused for breath.

“And he forgave us.” George added, sounding irritated. “He _is_ our friend.”

“Well he shouldn’t be. You two are poor excuses for friends if you think that’s okay. He ought to stay far away from the likes of you!”

“What do you even care?” George snapped.

“Thought you hated Harry.” Fred replied, one arm resting on his brother’s shoulder.

“And I thought you were his friends, but apparently looks can be deceiving.”

“What’s that supposed to mean, blondie?”

“Don’t call me that, you fucking weasel!” Draco shouted, drawing his wand from the sleeve of his robe. “I ought to hex you blonde just for that.”

“Try it and you’ll wake up with boils – ” George started.

“ – in your shorts!” Finished Fred.

“You and your whole bloody family just overlooked years of abuse and you think you can waltz around acting all high and mighty because your Potter’s friends.” He sneered. “But your _nothing_. You never did a damn thing, not in seven years!” Harry could see Draco’s hand shaking slightly.

“That’s enough!” Harry shouted, stepping between the three.

“Harry, maybe you can make sense of the bouncing ferret,” Fred sighed, looking confused.

“We certainly can’t.” George shrugged, following Ron as they headed towards the Great Hall for lunch.

Harry caught hold of Draco’s arm and dragged him back down the hallway, sharing a quick look with Hermione that said all he needed to say. That he’d catch up with them later, but he needed to speak with Draco first.

“What the hell was that all about?” Harry finally spoke when they reached an empty classroom.

Draco yanked his arm out of Harry’s grasp, straightening his robes with a huff. “Nothing you need to concern yourself with.”

“Considering most of what I heard was about me, I’m going to have to disagree.”

Draco sighed, reaching up to brush his hair out of his eyes. “They made a joke about the closet incident and I got pissed. There, that’s all. I’ll go now.” He moved to leave, but Harry stepped in front of the door.

“You’re not storming off this time. We’re going to talk.”

Draco looked as if he were debating fighting Harry just to get past, but eventually he sighed and sank down into a chair.

“Look, I’m not going to presume to understand why you can’t admit that you might have feelings for me, but it’s obvious that you do. No one would get that worked up about someone they didn’t care about. So I need to know, right now, if this thing between us stands any chance because if you won’t give it a shot then at least I know.”

“I…I…” Draco stumbled over what to say, so many things seeming to swirl around in his silvery grey eyes. Harry watched in anticipation for anything to actually come out. “I’m sorry, okay.”

“Sorry for what exactly? Sorry that you acted like an arse, or sorry that you can’t be with me?” He needed to know because somewhere along the way he’d started to fall in love with Draco Malfoy. He didn’t know when and he didn’t know how, but it was true. Harry knew he was holding his breath for what was likely going to be a brutal rejection, but he couldn’t stop himself from hoping, from wanting.

“I’ve never been with a man. Never even entertained the thought until recently. I honestly don’t know what I’m doing, Harry. My father wouldn’t take it well, to say the least, nor would Severus. It’s very likely I could be disinherited. All because for some damnable reason I care for you.”

Harry felt like he’d just been hit in the gut, all air rushing out of him. That meant what he thought it meant, right? That Draco did actually care for him.

“It wouldn’t be easy.” Draco continued, his eyes downcast. “You’d have to be patient with me.”

“Anything.” Harry breathed, his body moving forward of its own vilation. His fingers brushed over silky pale skin, drawing those glistening eyes to his.

“You’d have to deal with my family, if they don’t hate me of course.”

Harry nodded. “You’d have to play nice with the Weasleys.”

Draco grimaced slightly at that making Harry laugh. “Even the two who tricked us?”

“Without them this may never have happened.” Harry grinned, leaning down to kiss those plush lips that he’d been thinking about since their first kiss. Draco hummed against his mouth, tongue darting out to tangle with Harry’s.

“Perhaps I’ll thank them.”

 

**FIN**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all who have followed this story. It took me a lot longer to write this than I originally planned, but I'm fairly happy with how it turned out. I was originally going to have Sirius and maybe Remus appear in this story, but it just didn't happen. No worries though, they will get their own story later in this series.
> 
> As always, I do not own any of these lovely characters. They belong to Miss JK Rowling. I merely like to play with them.
> 
> Thanks again and let me know what other fandoms or ships you'd like to see in this series.


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